


Salvation

by orphan_account



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Eddie and Richie Are Evil But Not Completely, Good Pennywise In A Way, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Underage Sex, M/M, Magic? I Guess, Out of Character, Out of Character Pennywise (IT), Platonic Relationships, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Seriously out of character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 12:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: /on hold\Richie and Eddie will be the Losers salvation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spelling Mistakes

Richie stares and stares and stares at the broken mirror that hangs above him, spilling the dark messages of the blood he had given out to the eyes in the dark, its chipped in different places with different messages that speak his truth behind failed voices that begged for the sensation of a life they had wanted to lead, theres small pitter patters outside that Richie smiles at its nice to hear the pitter patters of forgotten people beg for release, but he ignores that and continues to stare at the mirror, it speaks his name in a static so familar that he nearly jumps with joy.

The static is loud as it travels oh so far around the room, whispering the insincerity's of those who left him in the dark to fight his demons alone, whispering the thoughts of those who left him in the lights to see the lies and whispering the oaths of those who let him eat the glass of the mist of memories.

His mirror danced and danced and danced around his skin as it loved him dearly, Richie smiled as it dug deep into his skin and let the europhia sink into his blood, Richies body fell hard against the ground and he was laughing, his vision spinning around him as the illusions of a world surrounded by darkness, fire and light, the statues of war and death stood high in the background, blood covered the mountains, the sky was littered in mirrors, some broken, some whole and some holding images of pleasure and it was perfect, absolutely perfect.

He didn't know how much time went by as the feeling of europhia drifted away then the taken king took away the sensations of Richie's heaven and brought him back to the room he had fallen in, when Richie finally awoke his eyes burned as he cried for the illusions to come back.

Richie huffed as the mirror hushed him and pushed himself up off the ground, still grouchy as the mirror continued to whisper to him, he finally stood up when everything went silent.

It was a quiet night in Derry, the wind was pounding against the old house, making it creek every two seconds and create hissing sounds as it peered it's way through the gaps in the house, he sat quietly as he listened to the wind and the drunken people that would walk by.

Richie stayed quiet throughout the night as he played with the spiders along with the odd carpet bugs that came out, the empire of war and death is what they wanted the losers to see but they called them crazy, encouraged by the darkness of the ends, the darkness would be a salvation to their sins, sins of following light, in light there is nothing but weakness.

Shattered memories peered through his Limbo, a Limbo of a boat that floats down the River of Not Forgotten and into the Mouth of Love Spread, he needed to see what was behind all that power of truth, truth to power, truth to love, truth to understanding.

Richie always felt truth, well once he didn't until he swallowed the glass and tore out his stomach to uncover the hidden understanding of who he is, what he is and what he will be, he once hated himself and now he loves himself as he loves others.

Rivers run when a man falls in love.

Richie felt bliss when the spiders laughed at his jokes when the carpet bugs danced to the songs that the wind was singing, the trees danced along, and the moonlight protected the innocent that walked past the shadows that tired to bite at their souls.

It was a quiet house, it was always a quiet house on the end of the street that paid no mind to the blood that was spilled on its grass, the Well of Wishes kept her place inside and let children dive their way down into sorrow-filed wishes.

There was always a wish to be wished and sorrow to be given out, and Richie will make sure that he will help towards that, make sure that his understanding will be seeded into the world, gather the darkness in his hands and throw out the light that trails behind it.

Jobs were always to be done either by reality or by ripping the seams between worlds and letting the monsters of the skies fall down into a child who opens their legs to a man they love, it can be a tough life when words of bliss and words of hate are spreading like wildfire by the lips of men and woman who lie to themselves.

Dreams is what Richie had, dreams of a life he lived before he stared into the abyss of what could be, and he jumped into their jaws and felt power like none other, he saw the side of himself that was hidden by courts of the universe, and when he emerged he planted his seed into a boy who took his heart into his hands and kissed away the demons behind his eyes

Richie's thoughts were ruptured when he realised that he was smashing his hands against the wooden floor, the sound ringing in his ears as he slowed his hands down apologetic to the air and to himself as he moved himself to sit on his knees, digging them into the loose pieces of wood.

Whispering is what he did as he takes off his glasses and presses his palms to his eyes, ready to peel his own head off and throw it out the window but he stopped when he felt the pressure becoming too much and dramatically lowered his hands.

His mirror was piercing itself as it birthed the thoughts of a man who wanted to touch the hellfire, he rolled his eyes as he picked up his glasses, giving them a little clean before popping them back on and standing up, giving himself a little stretch before leaving the room and going to head downstairs when he heard a voice that was home to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spelling mistakes as per usual.  
I'm too lazy to re-read

Eddie had a job to do, always had a job to do now that the clocks sing a song of the collapse that is yet to come and speak of a tower built from the sensation of war, the job is always making him tired but he sticks to it and always sticks to it even if he eats the static of unborn children.

The river runs and runs away from his terrorising screams as he walks and walks in the nightmares of his forgotten future, he laughs and laughs as he stares into the eyes of a child scared to breathe around a woman who holds a knife to her throat, he's too young for the cords of the light to strangle the dark out of him.

In light there is only horror and in dark there is only strength, he knows this well as he tastes the war on the lips of a man who holds the dreams of a better future, the harbingers of peace have ran away into the corners of a fragmented reality that sits on top of a bowl covered with the vines of from broken statues.

He feels the grass against his skin as he lies down to see the sky shatter above him, the illusions of a tower so tall above him falls through that holds his throne that sees all and knows all, the eye-drinkers wait and wait for him to uncover the salvations that are yet to be spoken, he has to make others see that everything will burn to a false god who does nothing but wait until their lovers die.

Peace is always an option that is hidden away in seething anger and yet it is always the second coming, everyone becomes a peace-bringer when the wars and death become so much that it taints the world red and blue, stars above shatter as they fall screaming for mercy.

The illusion is oh so beautiful to him this broken world that is saved by their torment, their cords of destruction seep into the eyes of sinners who know their truth.

That's exactly what Eddie is doing, he must seek, he must understand, he must act and he must love.

A hard job on its on but it's the way that it has to be, the deadlights showed them the power of truth, the power of understanding and how it's the most fearful weapon, a weapon of mass destruction that destroys nothing but the wills and souls of others.

He's no taken king but he will strive to be one even if it's a path that leads him to his own death, a death he can re-write and live again trying to become stronger, a singer of death as he locks himself away in the rooms that hold the crystals of a pit forgotten by loveless eyes.

The deadlights whisper to him in the darkest nights to scream the songs of death and tare away at the skin that is flooded in the waters of a garden covered in webs, silver flowers and green skies are on his mind when he sleeps and a creature made up of tongues praises him each time he touches the skin of himself, heat pools in his stomach when the pleasure of hands not of his own encases him.

It's hard for him to remember what he was like before he fell to the temptation of power and truth, everyone must understand truth behind the words they speak, it's a never ending spiral of understanding, maybe he can write a book on what's needed and what's not on the foundation of realities that are held by his hands.

Cracks in his mind are starting to bleed the courier of welcoming gardens it's painful yet necessary, he comes home after his illusion runs dry when the sky clouds over, the house he lives in is always quiet and it's nice, nice to know they are safe away from people who don't understand what the channels of wars are.

The tower of upmost darkness is embedded in his mind every-time he blinks, he wishes he was there standing above all and above everything with his hands laced with the war-bringer, the man who opens the gateways of fallen prayers, it's a dream and a nightmare that he hopes will become real one day.

All they had to do was make their friends see whats it's like when they are saved by a being who knows more than what they let on, saved by a statue that speaks in the riddles of the wishes of wishes, and he will help write the books of history of what was, whats is and what is to be.

He's a shell of what was and yet he's the best he has ever been, he thanks everything that is in his path and prays to the clocks that countdown to the wolves of repressed feelings come running down the town howling at all those who hide.

Hide away ye old fools, hide away at the faith you dare spit out and hide away at the desire to change the world, o'devotee mine.

He's brave even though he knows not, the ability to shun away the fear that resides in him and bring out the shield you hold for a moment that can change everything, every moment in everything can change the paths that life has set up for you.

The moon speaks of the oblivion beneath them, the nexus of the ages has fallen from their thrones and the daughters of songs cry as they hold their hands and pray for an infinite return.

The nights are dawning on him as he stares at the moonlight, it's pretty, the way the moon looms above the sky with her sister stars that sparkle brightly with the pacts of sorrow.

Sorrow, oh that sweet sorrow that dances around in their throats as it drags you down into the pits of scrunched eyes and cuts on arms, sorrow-bringers are deadly, always deadly as they know things that can break a man from his ego.

He know's the sorrow that Richie holds is painful, painful sorrow caused by a false reality that broke him into nothing but a hollowed man who never felt loved after the blood that was on his hands, Eddie never asks him and Richie never speaks of it.


End file.
